Let's get you home
by CrazyFM
Summary: Set during the pilot episode- a missing scene. Ever wondered how Morse ended up on his bed, with the record around his wrist and a note on his chest, after saying good bye to Mrs. Stromming? This is how I think it happened. Rated T for drinking.


**Let's get you home**

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Endeavour and I don't make any money from this.**_

 _My first Endeavour fic, a small but great fandom. I hope you like it._

 _While watching the pilot episode, I asked myself how Morse ended up in his bed with the record around his wrist and a note pinned to his chest. This is how I think it may have happened._

It was still early in the evening, when DI Thursday was on his way home from work. He was feeling frustrated and really looked forward to a quiet evening with his family. He was sure his wife's cooking would take his mind off the case. There was too little progress and too much corruption for his taste. The best lead had been found by young DC Morse. And that was not the only reason Thursday found himself liking the boy. He was refreshingly idealistic, open minded and quite clever. It really was a shame he had resigned. Even though, the boy was clearly still dedicated to his former work. He was leaving clues for them, even after he left.

Thursday lost his train of thoughts, when he saw a familiar figure slumped on a bench. Immediately he pulled over and got out of his jaguar.

"Morse?" He called the figure.

The younger man didn't react.

With a little trepidation Thursday came nearer, to get a good look at the Constable. He sighed half in annoyance, half in relief. The boy clearly had had too much to drink. If he had needed any confirmation that Morse didn't deal well with his own resignation, he would have had it now. The young man was a right state. His shirt was all crumpled and he was fast asleep on a park bench, cradling a record to his chest.

Annoyed the DI shook the boy awake. It took some time, but finally Morse looked at him with bleary eyes.

"Sir?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Let's get you home, Constable," Thursday replied. He reckoned, as it was him who introduced Morse to alcohol, he might as well deal with the aftermath. Maybe he should have given the lad a talk about knowing your limit, but he had thought him mature and intelligent enough not to get senselessly drunk. Seems he had been wrong. While being quite sharp in some aspects, Morse was clearly lacking in self-preservation. Hopefully the headache he was sure to have the next day would teach him. He hoped the lad learned that getting drunk didn't solve your problems, but only delayed them. Anyways, Thursday wouldn't let such a promising young colleague go down the dark path of alcoholism.

It took some maneuvering , but finally Thursday got the younger man into the passenger seat. He also fastened the safety belt, as Morse was in no state to do so, before he got into the car himself. Morse was already asleep again, when Thursday started the motor. At least the young man was not a violent drunk. And luckily the DI knew where the boy stayed, while he was in Oxford. That way he could let Morse sleep.

Fifteen minutes later he had successfully navigated Morse upstairs and into his room. Thursday helped the sleepy Constable out of his jacket and deposited him on his bed. As a second thought he hung the record, the boy had been hugging, to his wrist. Then he pinned a note to his shirt, to come to his office at eight the next morning.

Despite everything Thursday was positive the lad would be there. That would give Thursday the change to convince him to stay. He knew the boy would be trouble. Morse would need someone to protect him from himself, from envious colleagues and from senior officers, who didn't take well to someone ignoring their orders and meddling with cases that weren't theirs. The young Constable would need to be taught when to let things rest and how to blend in a bit more. But Thursday knew the boy would be worth it. He could become a damn good detective and there was no one Thursday would rather have as his bagman.

When Morse woke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was a raging headache. When he moved his right arm, in an attempt to massage his temples, he became aware of the record on his wrist. That was when he remembered. He had resigned and after that visited Mrs. Stromming, to say good bye. He had been flirting with her, but had been turned away. After that he had gone to a pub, to drown his sorrow and calm his thoughts – something he was beginning to regret.

Then – nothing. He couldn't remember how he got back to his room. He sat up and a rustling noise made him aware of the note Thursday had left.

Reading it, Morse felt somewhat embarrassed that the DI he respected, had seen him in such a state. But he had no time for that. A glimpse at the clock told him he would have to hurry, if he wanted to make it to the station in time.

The young DC was out of his room in a flash. It didn't even occur to him to ignore the note. Thursday wanted him there, so Morse was on his way. Little did he know, that this was the beginning of a new time in police forces for him – a better time.

 **The end.**

 _Please review_


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